Summer Heat
by NordicFlags
Summary: America's sister is over-heating, and the hero wants to do something for her. While he travels to visit her, he muses over California's history. OC used, side USUK and SuFin.


**Hello all! Okay, I got this idea this morning when I woke up, and it was so. Blooming. HOT. As I thought how miserable I was, I realized how much worse the countries would have it, and thus, this little plot was born. I did some research, and when I checked the weather in the Northern European countries, I wanted to cry. They have friggin' 64 degree weather, while I have to suffer through triple-digit temperatures. D'X **

**I think this is pretty cute, but then again, I wrote this all before lunch, so I dunno...**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, would I really be writing this? Really, all I own here is the character California. **

Summer. That time of year where kids get out of school and relish in their freedom, high school seniors get ready for college, and everyone gets to celebrate being with their family once again.

But, like all things, summer has a downside. As fun as it is to jump in the pool when the day gets too warm, sometimes the heat gets so oppressing, it makes it difficult for one to move, much less swim. Humans may get irritable and tired when the heat hits, but countries have it much worse. For one thing, when heat hits a specific part of their land, it also hits them as well. No matter what they do, they just can't cool off until the heat wave ends.

America was one such country with that problem. Extreme heat waves were hitting the West, and that side of his body felt as though it were on fire. But of course, one particular state was really feeling the heat much worse than he was.

California.

When he heard the weather forecast for her land, he instantly called her to ask her how she was doing. After a few rings, she picked up, and he could instantly tell the effects of the heat wave on her. Instead of a cheerful greeting, all she gave was an exhausted, "Hello?"

"Hey, Cali," he stated, starting to feel a tad worried. "I heard about the heat wave; how you holdin' up?"

She sighed. "I've got fans blowing all over my house, and I'm still not cooling off. What does that tell you?" Her tone had gotten irritable, and he stood up.

"I'm on my way over. See ya soon, sis."

"_Adios, hermano_."

As he called his pilot to get the plane up and running, he thought over his history with the far western state.

Though he didn't like admitting it, California was _much _older than he was, and he hadn't been the first to discover her. Actually, it was Spain who had discovered her in 1510, but hadn't taken her to his home until 1769. At the time, she had been a little girl who was loved by all who met her, including Mexico. And in 1821, when his country had broken free from Spain, Mexico had demanded California as his territory, leaving Spain heartbroken at the loss of his daughter. She'd been about 9 in human years, so she hadn't really understood why she had to leave her _padre_ and go to live with her _hermano_ instead, but she went anyways, hoping to keep the peace between her beloved family members. Mexico spoiled the little girl as best he could for the short amount of time he had her, but poor California had little to repay her brother with. Most of her population was still her native people that had been there for as long as she could remember. But even then, that population was starting to decline.

That was when the Mexican-American war began in 1846. Barely 30 years had passed from Mexico's freedom from Spain before once again he was plunged into a war he hadn't wanted in the first place. California had told America about when she would go to his room every night to find him looking worn and haggard from the fighting. She was now 15, and would hold him until he had fallen into a fitful sleep.

In 1848, the war finally ended, and Mexico was forced to give up his beloved sister to his rival. America could clearly remember when California was first introduced to him. Her brown eyes were narrowed, clearly showing her lack of trust and dislike for him. "¿_Cómo te atreves a tomar distancia de mi hermano?" _she demanded angrily in Spanish. She crossed her tan arms and scowled.

Nervously, he shifted from foot from foot. Though in appearance a year younger than he was, America was slightly intimidated by her. "Uh, w-well, I suppose it's because you're a-"

"Say a 'spoil of war', and I'll take your head off," California threatened, her English highlighted by a thick Spanish accent.

"-my new territory," he finished, hoping that he had said the right thing.

She had nodded. "Better, I suppose. Will I still be able to visit my brother?"

"O-Oh. Of course you will. What kind of hero would I be if I separated a family?" He struggled to come up with a cocky smile, hoping to hide his anxiety. "You can call me Alfred if you'd like."

California rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Then you may call me Alejandra."

By the end of their meeting, he'd hoped that their relationship had improved some, but when the Gold Rush rolled around, the '_diablos blancos_', as Alejandra called them, brought with them many different diseases that affected her native people, and by extension, herself.

Once he'd heard of it, Alfred rushed to assist her with the best medical attention he could find, and also called the doctors to treat her people as well. After the somewhat painful treatment, Alfred stayed by her side, waiting for her to get better. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, sounding confused. "Aren't I just a spoil of war?"

Stunned by her question, America held her hand tightly and said, "Of course not! You're my new sister; the hero always takes care of his siblings!"

Something in her changed that day. Her behavior towards him took a turn for the better, and with the Civil War, she sent her promise of supporting him whole-heartedly. Since then, she'd treated him with sibling love, and sent him red, white, and blue colored _pan dulce_* every year for his birthday.

When he was brought out of his memories, the plane had landed in Sacramento and he quickly rented a car and traveled to Alejandra's house in the outskirts of her capital. Farmland surrounded the old house, with a garden on the side. He winced at the wilting blooms in the plot; if she wasn't so hot at the moment, Alex would probably be working furiously to save her treasured plants.

He barged into the house, yelling out, "Alex! Where are you?!"

"_En mi dormitorio, hermano. ¿Tiene que ser tan fuerte?" _

It was bad. California would speak Spanish only when she was sick, overheating, or angry. America was sure he knew which one it was. He tiptoed as quietly as possible into her room, where he found her sprawled across her bed, wearing a skimpy bikini with fans stationed strategically all around her room. Her back-length black hair was tied in a braid wrapped around her head, most likely to keep the heat off her back as much as possible.

"Hey, sis," he whispered. "I brought you something you'll like."

"It better not be a burger," she grumbled, cracking a brown eye open.

"Better." He pulled a container of cookie-dough ice cream and a spoon from behind his back. In the blink of an eye, it was in her hands and she was devouring it like her life depended on it. Chuckling, he sat on the edge of her bed, observing as she ate. Since Japanese, Chinese, and other immigrants came to live in her lands, California had grown, and was now a year older than he appeared. Most other countries were amazed to learn that the serious, hardworking older Hispanic girl was actually America's state. Of course, Alejandra cared little about what they thought, and still treated him as a cherished little brother. Aside from his boyfriend, Britain, and his brother Canada, California was the one who truly lavished love on him and she was always there when he needed someone to talk to.

"Still overheated?" he asked sympathetically, rubbing his hand up and down her back comfortingly. Taking a breather, Alex nodded.

"I just can't cool down," she sighed, collapsing once again on her bed. The ice cream container lay next to her, half-eaten. "Even if I go to the mountains, it'd still be hot."

Alfred hated seeing his sister like this. Suddenly, his heroic mind came up with the perfect plan. "Sit tight, sis! The hero has a few calls to make!"

***Summer Heat***

"_Al!_" Alex moaned. "_Te quiero tanto, hermano!" _

America grinned as he watched California turn cartwheels in the cool mountains of Finland. The smaller nation stood next to him, laughing at her joy. "She's enjoying herself, isn't she?" he asked America.

"Definitely! I knew she'd love this!"

Sweden came up behind his 'wife' and hugged him tightly, watching the state as well. "Yer w'lc'me ta c'me ta my h'se, too. Ch'cked w'th N'rway 'nd D'nmark; b'th s'id it was f'ne if she needed ta go to their h'ses, too."

Happy laughter filled Alfred's ears, and he grinned. "Yeah, I think we'll stop by."

_'The hero always takes care of his siblings!' _

***pan dulce: literally 'sweet bread'; it's basically just Mexican bread with some sweet icing on it, which can come in several different colors. It's good stuff, but you have to go to a Mexican market to find it; it's not common in commercial supermarkets. **

***sighs* Sadly, I'm not making this up. Temperatures are hitting 120 degrees Fahrenheit, and it's not gonna drop off for a while. Oh, well. We'll see if I survive this. If not...you don't get the sequel to 'Chosen'. And for those who don't know about 'Chosen', go to my profile, read it, and hopefully drop a review! *shameless self-advertising***

**Didja like it? Review and let me know! **


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